


on the basis of instant noodles

by auvelli



Series: 'basis' - noun. the underlying foundation for an idea or process. [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Atsumu is hopeless sometimes, Bad Flirting, Flirting, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Instant Noodles, Kisses, M/M, Slow Burn, bio major sakusa, enemies to lovers vibe, its pretty brief tho, oh and background osasuna, political science major atusmu, slow burn vibes at least lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auvelli/pseuds/auvelli
Summary: Miya Atsumu hadn’t anticipated his love life thriving on the basis of instant noodles - but maybe he’s not complaining.(aka, college au where Suna, thank god, has a microwave in his dorm room that Atsumu frequents, but Suna’s roommate is Sakusa Kiyoomi and well, maybe he finds himself over there a little more often than necessary)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: 'basis' - noun. the underlying foundation for an idea or process. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866322
Comments: 68
Kudos: 1301





	on the basis of instant noodles

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I just wanted to note that i am very aware that japan has not only a much larger variety, but way better tasting types of instant noodles easily accessible. i just wanted to pay homage to what is sometimes ironically the symbol of a broke college kid in the US which would be Nissin brand Cup Noodles. no disrespect intended. 
> 
> that's all, please enjoy
> 
> (edit 8/5)  
> this got a ton more support than i was expecting. thank you so much to anyone who read/left kudos/let me know that they laughed or enjoyed because it truly brought me joy to know that i could do that for you.  
> if you're here for the first time because you wanted to read it before part two (or here to reread, i suppose), i'm just going to gently note that i, personally, wouldn't consider this my finest work by far haha (which i guess then became a motivating factor in writing a follow up ) but i hope you can still enjoy :)

“I’ll let you use my microwave if you let me use half your minifridge,” is the life altering arrangement proposed by Suna Rintarou, close friend to Miya Atsumu. 

He agrees wholeheartedly, because in true broke college kid fashion at least a third of his diet is comprised of those damn msg packed, buy-a-pack-of-em-for-a-couple-bucks instant noodles who’s only flaw is requiring hot water to be edible. And, god, he’s sure tired of waiting for the sink water to heat up everytime he has to eat them, and even then the temperature is by no means substantial to cook them to their ideal _al dente_ texture that he craves. 

The first properly warmed cup of beef (underrated in every way, clearly superior to chicken but he supposes he’ll maintain his role as the wistful profit gracing the people with his advanced ways of thinking until the world realizes this fact) flavored noodles is heaven to his stomach, as sad as it may sound. And it’s all for the small price of having to house Suna’s ridiculous energy drinks in the left corner of his minifridge. He could deal with that, yes. 

**  
  
  
  
**

-

**  
  
  
  
**

Atsumu _knows_ that Suna has a roommate, considering the bed with the pale blue comforter that sits on the right side of the dorm room, and the fact that no one in the building _didn’t_ have one. But after a handful of visits to the oasis that is the glossy black microwave, the blond realizes that he’s never seen him. The small desk and accompanying dresser technically house no evidence of human life - no photos, or personal decorations except for a sleek white table lamp and one succulent in a brick red pot. The aforementioned bed is always pristine - never seen with a single crinkle or crease, or at least that’s how it appears from a distance. So although he knows that his roommate exists, if someone told Atsumu that it was a joke and Suna never actually had one, he’d be just as inclined to believe that too. 

That is until one day in the fall during his regular excursion down the hall, when his knocks on the door go unanswered. 

“Suna, ya bastard, I see the light I know yer there,” he groans as a habit with a couple more knocks. “I have a lecture in 45 and I’m _starvin’_ so can ya hurry-” 

The door creaks open, and it is, in fact, not Suna. 

Atsumu is met with a sight of a scowling face that holds eyes that are clearly hazed with sleep, a couple of parallel beauty marks that sit above the brow, and black curls that sit frizzy and wild upon his head. 

His first instinct is in fact not to apologize despite having clearly woken up this mysterious roommate. Instead, he utters a: “Well good mornin’ sleeping beauty.” 

The man’s glare deepens. 

“Who are you?”

His voice is further evidence to sudden consciousness, as it comes low and raspy. 

“Miya Atsumu,” he answers, sticking the hand that isn’t holding the cup of noodles out. “Suna’s friend, and co-parent to the microwave.” 

Atsumu watches the man look at his hand, look back up to meet his eyes, and turn away. 

_Sheesh_ , the thought crosses his mind. 

“Hurry up. You interrupted my nap,” the other mutters before crawling back under the blue comforter, making it the first time Atsumu’s ever seen it not in it’s perfectly made up state. The underlying irritance in his tone is oddly homely to Atsumu, a sound he’s very much familiarized himself with over the years. So instead of shutting up and making his noodles quietly as someone with half a sense of humanity would, he decides to conversate in hopes of getting another taste. 

“I didn’t get a name from ya.”

“I know,” the man grumbles back. And then, a moment later, “Sakusa Kiyoomi.” 

“I’ve never seen ya around, was starting to think ya didn’t exist or somethin’,” Atsumu says, opening up the microwave and punching in the timer for two minutes. 

“Right now,” a sigh, “I wish I didn’t.” Atsumu can’t help the small chuckle. 

“What’s yer major?” 

“Bio.”

The blond hums. “Let me guess, gonna go to med school?” He peers over to the bed, Sakusa is curled up snugly, facing the wall. 

“Unfortunately.” There’s a moment of silence as Atsumu watches the timer hit a minute and thirty. “You?”

“Political science.”

“Let me guess,” Sakusa says, as though to mock Atsumu for using the phrase, “Law school?”

“Bingo. Maybe you missed yer callin’ as a detective.” He says jokingly, but there’s not even a sound of acknowledgement from the bed. 

Atsumu mindlessly watches the timer tick down as the conversation seems to die. In another minute his noodles are done, and he entertains the vague idea that Sakusa has already fallen back asleep. 

“Are ya asleep?” He asks instead before his brain to mouth filter can catch it. 

“Yes.” The answers comes flat and with a more prevalent irritance. For some reason, it brings a grin to his face. 

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet ya. I’m sure I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Congratulations. Goodbye,” Sakusa huffs. Atsumu leaves without another word. 

**  
  
  
  
  
-  
  
**

_[you]_

_i finally met your roommate_

_[suna]_

_i heard_

_[you]_

_he’s a piece of work. must be real fun at parties._

_[suna]_

_i wouldn’t know. the guy’s always either at the library or doing work_

_[you]_

_i figured that much_

_[suna]_

_well try not to piss him off too much. pretty sure_

_he knows how to get away with murder._

_[you]_

_what makes u think i’d piss him off?_

_[suna]_

_hah. im going to assume that’s sarcastic_

_[you]_

_…………_

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**-**

Their next interaction doesn’t come for about another week, as the next few times Atsumu uses the microwave, Sakusa is nowhere to be found as usual. 

He’d just lifted his hand to knock on the door when, by surprise, it swings open, and he meets the widened eyes of Suna’s roommate. 

“Omi! Alive and well I see.” 

“Alive, yes,” he starts, his face holding an expression that implies that Atsumu has just ruined his whole afternoon by showing up. “Well is questionable.” 

This time he’s far from asleep, and is properly dressed up. In fact maybe a little _too_ dressed up. 

“Where ya off to?” He questions. 

Sakusa raises an accusatory eyebrow. “What’s it to you?” 

“He likes to be nosy,” Suna’s voice comes from somewhere in the room. “Ignore him.”

“Toodles,” Atsumu says with a grin of the shit eating kind. Sakusa rolls his eyes and walks away, mumbling a soft ‘ _Don’t have to tell me twice…’_

He slips into the dorm room that’s practically become a second home to him. Suna’s idly scrolling on his phone from his bed. 

“‘ _Toodles’?_ What next, you’re gonna invite him out for evening tea?” The other mocks, finishing with a wealthy posh accent.

“Shuddup, just tryna be friendly,” he argues, but Suna ignores it as Atsumu proceeds to stick his noodles into the microwave as usual.

Later in the evening, Atusmu makes the ill advised decision to consume those damned noodles for the second time that day, finding himself trudging down the hall. Coincidentally, though, Sakusa is just returning to the dorm room as he approaches, and certainly doesn’t leave this fact go unnoticed. 

“Again? You couldn’t possibly be _that_ desperate,” He comments, moving to sit in his desk chair. Suna’s out somewhere, leaving the two of them alone in the dorm for a second time. “Or that broke,” He adds. 

“You underestimate me, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says, and when he meets the other’s eyes they have a distant sense of exasperation behind them. 

“When was the last time you had a real meal?”

“What’s it to ya?” He doesn’t miss the opportunity to make the other eat his words. Something in Sakusa’s face shifts, but he thinks it’s out of amusement more than anything. Atsumu decides that not half asleep Sakusa is likely much more pleasant than the half asleep kind. 

“Nothing. However I think your heart would appreciate a break.” 

“Little early in yer career to be lecturing me about my health, dontcha think?” 

“Little early in _your_ career to be pointlessly debating with me, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Atsumu lets out a dramatic gasp. “Y’know, Omi, I don’t appreciate you using my words against me.” 

If the blond didn’t know any better, he’d say Sakusa’s expression almost holds a smirk. “Sorry, thought you’d be used to it.” 

Something flares in Atsumu’s chest. For most people, they would likely be feeling some sort of irritance, perhaps even anger at the snide comments. 

Atsumu thinks he feels attraction. 

The smug and accomplished look on Sakusa’s face - it’s one he wants to crush, but deep down his heart flutters at the competitive banter. 

(This is a fact high school him would be in denial about, however, time and time again has proved that his favorite qualities in an ideal partner looks suspiciously close to an average person’s list of qualities a typical asshole would have. Sue him.) 

“Clever, I’ll admit. But this isn’t the end of it, Omi-kun,” He says, wrapping his steaming cup of noodles while heading towards the door. Sakusa shrugs lightly, turning away. 

“If you don’t have a stroke before the next time I see you, I’ll look forward to it.” 

A warm grin spreads on Atsumu’s face as the door shuts close. 

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**-**

_[you]_

_can’t believe u were hiding omi from me all this time_

_[suna]_

_if you have the hots for my roommate im ending_

_our deal_

_[you]_

_i said no such thing_

_[you]_

_but how does he like his eggs in the morning_

_[suna]_

_Blocked._

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**-**

Much to Atsumu’s dismay, the majority of his visits over the next couple of weeks are Sakusa-less.

(“Atsumu,” Suna starts when the blond complains about it, “Our rooms are down the hall from each other. You can come over anytime.” 

“Then he’ll start to think I like him or somethin’.” 

“You _sound_ like you do.”

“I find him _attractive._ Never said I wanted to court him or anything.”

“Okay- I’m done talking about this.”)

And perhaps that’s what prompts him to purchase some of those instant oatmeal packets, though he’ll never admit it. But deep down, most likely anyways, he thinks he’ll have better luck in the morning hours. 

With his heart a little heavy in his chest, he knocks on the door. There’s a few moments of silence, then _whew-_

Sakusa opens the door. But it’s not _just_ Sakusa, it’s Sakusa gleaming with post-shower dew and a white towel hanging loose around his waist. 

“Wow, so forward Omi. At least let me take ya out t’dinner-”

“What are you doing? It’s seven in the morning?” He questions rather incredulously. Atsumu let’s a knowing smirk spread across his features. 

“Oatmeal. Unusual, I know.”

Sakusa blinks at him a few times, as if he’s waiting for a _‘just kidding’_ and a camera to come up to his face to capture his reaction as they would in some kind of prank video, but it never comes. Instead, he gets Atsumu lifting a plastic bowl and a packet of instant oatmeal up to let him know that he’s really just there for breakfast. 

He lets out a sigh, long and drawn out, somewhere in it a: ‘ _it’s too early for this.’_

“Let me get dressed,” is all he leaves Atsumu with before shutting the door. 

It’s only a couple minutes - a couple minutes that Atsumu _certainly_ does not spend thinking about his weirdly lean and toned abdomen - before a now clothed Sakusa opens the door up for him again and he makes his way to the microwave. 

“Good mornin’ to you too, by the way,” Atsumu jokes as Sakusa takes a seat at his desk with another sigh. 

“Suna introduced me to your brother the other day,” he starts, “What went wrong?” 

“I’ve been tryna figure out the same thing! An absolute dickwad, that guy.” 

“I meant in terms of yourself.”

“I know.” 

Sakusa turns around and hits him with a scowl while Atsumu combats it with a cheesy grin of his own. 

“I can’t stand him and Suna,” Atsumu continues unprompted, “all _‘love’_ and _‘dearest’_ and the other mushy shit. Makes me wanna gag.” 

This seems to interest the other. “Not your type relationship, I’m guessing?” 

“God no,” a mischievous glint hits his eye, “And I’d be willing to bet not yers either.” 

The chair creaks as Sakusa leans back in it with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “You’d be correct, yes. But why would that matter?” 

_Sneaky_. Atsumu shrugs. “It wouldn’t. Just exercising my judge of character.” 

There’s a soft hum. “Nosy. Suna was right.” 

The blond shrugs. “What can I say?” 

“You could apologize for interrupting my quiet morning,” Sakusa offers. 

“Get used to it, I have a whole box of these.” 

“Oh, _fantastic_.” 

“Isn’t it? A little more ‘Tsumu in yer life?” 

“I don’t appreciate you blatantly ignoring my sarcasm.”

“Sarcasm isn’t acknowledged in a court of law, Omi-kun.” 

Atsumu looks smugly towards Sakusa who’s leaning in his desk chair with his arms crossed defiantly. 

“Miya-”

“Don’t call me Miya,” he interrupts. “Ya know my brother, too.” 

“Then don’t call me ‘Omi’.” Sakusa bargains.

Atsumu shakes his head. “No can do, Omi-kun.” 

“Fine. Then Miya stays.”

“Fine.”

“ _Fine.”_

Atsumu grins. Maybe Sakusa smirks, too. Either way, they’ve caught each other's eyes in a precarious lock, deep charcoal eyes versus smooth honey ones. The time ticks, and their eye contact is likely just bordering on uncomfortable when-

_“God,_ get a room.” 

The eye contact immediately breaks, both of their heads snapping to Suna who stands in the doorway, assumingly freshly showered as well but already dressed and with a towel resting lazily upon his head. 

“Yer one to talk,” Atsumu counters, almost as though nothing happened. Suna hits him with a ‘What do you mean?’ which is a mistake, because with ease the blond begins reciting his experience with his and Osamu’s lovesick pining and googly eyes with as much dramaticism as he can muster. He peers over to Sakusa, who’s listening observantly, looking perhaps the slightest bit entertained, even laughing and smiling at some of the memories or offering clarifying questions. 

It dawns upon him, as the conversation evens out between the three and his bowl of oatmeal is finished, that it’s the first time he’s stayed longer than just heating up his food. It’s nice, fun, even - to not have to trek down the hall and enjoy his food in almost silence. 

Maybe he could get used to this. 

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**-**

It’s somewhere around finals season that Atsumu becomes painfully aware of his feelings for Sakusa. 

He was correct in the assumption that the bio major would be around more in the morning, which by default almost doubled their time together, each with thrilling and heart-thumping interactions. 

(“Miya, do you buy microwavable foods just to see me?” He had finally asked one day as Atsumu heated up a small cup of Kraft mac ‘n cheese. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Omi-kun!” - he said with as much gusto as he could muster, while also thinking about the array of microwavable foods that’s sitting in one of his dresser drawers.

Or another personal favorite: 

“Y’know Omi, I’m starting think that you actually like me or somethin’,” Atsumu had said teasingly when Sakusa offered to iron his button down for an event.

“Don’t be foolish,” he grumbled. “I’d sooner be six feet under than say that I enjoy your presence.” 

“Technically you _just_ said that ya enjoy my presence.” 

“Miya.”) 

But it’s around this time that something changes. 

Atsumu’s sitting at his desk, several books scattered across it, a thick spiral notebook sitting in front of him with surprisingly neat notes in an impressive array of colors, when his stomach growls so loud he briefly fears that he might interrupt his roommates sleep. 

**  
  
**

_[you]_

_suna PLEASE tell me that ur still awake_

_[suna]_

_i am but im not at the dorm_

_[you]_

_where the hell are u then??_

_[you]_

_it’s 2 in the morning??_

_[suna]_

_ask ur brother ;)_

_[you]_

_disgusting_

_[you]_

_vile_

_[you]_

_i hope u fail all ur exams_

_[suna]_

_whatever_

_[suna]_

_what’s up tho_

_[you]_

_im starvin and i rlly don’t wanna walk to_

_the convenience store_

_[suna]_

_go see if sakusa’s awake_

_[suna]_

_he’s been up studying these days_

_[you]_

_and have him chop my head off if i_

_wake him up again? no thanks_

_[suna]_

_okay then starve asshole lmao_

_[you]_

_fuck u_

**  
  
  
**

With a soft groan of exasperation, and another impatient rumble of his stomach, he regretfully grabs a cup of those damn noodles and walks down the hall. 

To his luck though, he can make out the soft glow a table lamp would provide peeking out from under the door, hopefully meaning that Sakusa is in fact still awake. He gives a couple soft knocks and waits. 

The door opens slowly about 10 seconds later, and Sakusa’s expression is already unimpressed. 

“What do you-”

“I’ve been studying and I’m starvin’. Gotta feed the brain, y’know.” 

He sighs for a moment, looking away at something in the room before letting Atsumu in. 

His side of the room is the most disorganized Atsumu has ever seen it, pages scattered hastily, bright colored post it notes scattering the wall with various diagrams and long scientific terms that he would probably have to sound out to be able to pronounce. He realizes, as Sakusa approaches the desk and his features are better seen under the soft warm light of the lamp, that he looks thoroughly stressed. His eyes perhaps a little more sunken, bags a little darker, hair more frazzled than he would allow it on a regular day. Atsumu recognizes a feeling in his stomach - _concern._

“Hey, how long have ya been studyin’ for?”

“Hours.” Sakusa mutters in response. 

The microwave beeps seem too loud in the room as he punches in the time. He briefly wishes that it has a volume option. 

“Don’t stress too much, looks to me like you’ll be just fine,” Atsumu tries his best to sound genuine - comforting like this isn’t really his forte, growing up with Osamu made sure of that. 

“Stop that.” 

He turns his focus from the microwave to Sakusa who’s look at him with deepened eyes from his desk. He doesn’t stop the puzzled expression from spreading on his features. 

“Stop what?” 

There’s a tentative breath before: “Acting like you care.” 

“Acting?” 

“You’re _supposed_ to say something like _‘wow Omi-kun ya that worried about failin?’ -_ or something dumb like that.” His impression of Atsumu’s accent almost brings a smile to his face. 

“First of all, definitely don’t sound like that, second of all I’m just making sure ya don’t work yourself too hard.” 

“But what does it matter? Aren’t you up doing the same thing?”

There’s a tired look in Sakusa’s eyes. Atsumu realizes in this moment that there’s a lot that he simultaneously knows and doesn’t know about Sakusa. He may know his preferred brand of toothpaste from a discussion they once had, or his favorite Disney Princess ( _Mulan_ , he had said. _She was courageous and selfless and actually respectable in her own right._ ) or even why he took the time arrange his clothing hanging in the closet in rainbow order. But he _didn’t_ know why Sakusa was here, at this University, studying biology with the hopes of going to medical school. _Why_ he was working and studying so hard - for himself? His family? What was his childhood like? Are both his parents in his life? Does he have siblings? 

It was at this moment, looking into Sakusa’s tired eyes, that he realized that he wanted to know the bigger things. Why? Well, there could only be one answer, really. 

Atsumu shrugs. “Yea. Guess I am too.” He ponders this as he watches the timer wind down, and as Sakusa hesitantly turns back to his books and his computer. 

What now? 

He makes up his mind. 

“Say, Omi, whaddya say I go steal some of Suna’s energy drinks and my things and we study together?” 

Sakusa doesn’t turn his back, but Atsumu can hear the eyebrow raise in his voice anyways. “Won’t that be pointless? Not like we share classes or anything.”

“Don’t have to, really. It’s just nice doing it with someone else I guess. Keep each other accountable.” 

There’s a second of silence, Atsumu can only assume Sakusa’s pondering whether or not he’ll say yes. 

“Sure,” the answer comes softly. 

Just as soft as the smile that spreads upon Atsumu’s face. 

**  
  
  
  
**

The rest seems to be a blur. It becomes a habit, every night the two staying up late studying together, sharing laughs and turmoils and pointless debates in the span of time approaching finals weeks. Suna’s there some nights, either joining them with quiet studying of his own or yelling at them to stop whispering ( _It doesn’t make it any easier for me to sleep,_ he had said). But it’s nice. Really nice, actually. Atsumu doesn’t feel as exhausted or as drained. Anytime he was on the brink of giving up, he could just utter the words ‘I’m tired of this’ and Sakusa would immediately say something to challenge him with the intent of riling him up and getting him to study more. Atsumu knows he does it just for that, and yet he lets him do it anyways. He appreciates it, even, though he’ll probably never say it. 

Finals week eventually comes and goes - and he’s surprisingly confident. Or at least, none of his exams made him want to slam his head into the table, which means he must have done _something_ right. 

Sakusa goes home for winter break, and Atsumu does too. The holiday season with his family, though partly chaotic, is welcomed. Even despite his want to slam Osamu’s ugly mug into the nearest pole. (That feeling, he’s come to realize, never disappears though really. Brotherly love, y’know?) 

Speaking of love, he’d be lying if he said Sakusa hadn’t occasionally (quite often) occupied a space in the back of his mind. With his extra time to think he considers. Considers himself, considers Sakusa and, well, yeah. 

He _might_ be in love. 

Osamu wasn’t (was) any help to this, either. 

“‘Tsumu,” He had said one day. “What the hell is up with you and Sakusa?” 

Atsumu looked at him with wide eyes. “Whaddya mean?”

“ _Whaddya mean?_ ” He mocked. “Rin was losing his damn mind around finals. Said if you guys didn’t get together soon he might have to shoot himself.”

“That bastard, spilling my secrets,” Atsumu muttered. “It’s none of yer damn business.” 

**  
  
**

So coming back to university, he has one thing in mind. _How do I confess to Sakusa Kiyoomi and keep my soul intact at the same time?_

Not as simple as it seems. 

He ponders over the thought as he unpacks his clothes, re-decorates a bit, and resettles into his room. How to confess to Sakusa, how to confess to Sakusa….

There’s a brisk knock on his door that sends a bolt of shock through his spine. Suna isn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow morning, definitely not his roommate, maybe it’s someone from-

“Here.” 

It’s Sakusa. Curls carefully styled, wearing a navy blue college sweater, light wash jeans, duffle bag slung around the shoulder, a large thing of tupperware that he’s offering out to Atsumu, and is that from the chill or is he _blushing?_

He looks down to the tupperware, and back up to Sakusa, wordless, shocked. 

“My sister made it,” he continues. There’s a muted irritance in his tone, something that says _I can’t believe that I’m doing this._ “It’s spinach alfredo and grilled chicken pasta. Homemade fettuccine, of course.” Atsumu still doesn’t say anything. He thinks it makes the other nervous, because Sakusa for the first time in the time that he’s known him, seems to ramble. “I know you went home which means you probably ate well but you still need better eating habits and real food so I thought-”

Something overcomes Atsumu. Something so strong, and so overwhelmingly _fond_ , that against his better judgement, he gently grabs the wrist that’s offering the food, pulls Sakusa closer and captures his lips. A light, fluttering kiss that holds more sincerity than Atsumu even knows how to word. For a second, he panics, surprising himself with his own compulsiveness, but then Sakusa leans in further, reciprocating in a way that makes his heart beat so loud he can hear it in the base of his ears. 

When they separate, Atsumu has to remind himself to breathe. Sakusa lets out a tentative exhale of his own. 

“So ya _do_ like me,” The blond coos with a smirk. 

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Can I be yer idiot?” 

“Can I get out of your doorway?” 

Atsumu steps back and the door shuts behind Sakusa, who then sticks the container of food into the previously empty mini-fridge, before turning to face Atsumu again. 

“Yes, you can.” 

The blond's face spreads into a grin. Sakusa’s features hold a softened smile of his own. 

“Can I kiss ya again?” 

“Stop asking me questions and come here dammit.”

Atsumu bridges the gap, letting his hands come up to Sakusa’s shoulders as the other’s hands come firmly to his waist. 

“Don’t hafta tell me twice,” he utters with a cheesy grin before reconnecting their lips. There’s no sense of urgency behind it, instead slow, lazy, and appreciative, manifesting all those feelings of want Atsumu, and apparently Sakusa, has been harboring for months now. And when that want is thoroughly satisfied, Atsumu can’t help but acknowledge his distant _desire._ He has to indulge, now that he’s here like this, letting his hands slide into those midnight curls, giving the surprisingly soft strands a gentle pull. A small breath from Sakusa comes between their lips. Atsumu has to test the reaction again, pulling a little tighter and eliciting a similar response. 

“What are you getting at?” Sakusa says, as though his hands aren’t sliding farther down Atsumu’s hips. 

“I mean, really nothing,” he says. “But I _do_ happen to know that my roommate won’t be back til Monday, if that means anything to ya.” 

An eyebrow comes up. “So forward, Atsumu.” The use of his first name with the low teasing tone makes his heart flip. “At least let me take you to dinner first.” 

“Using my words against me again, huh Omi?” Atsumu smirks. “But technically, you just brought me dinner.”

Sakusa seems to consider it, something enticing flashing across his eyes. “You make a valid point.”

“I know,” he rolls his eyes playfully. “I always do.” 

The smirk that spreads across Sakusa's face is almost devious. “I hope your sheets are clean.”

“A cleanfreak as always, I see.” - Is the last thing he gets to say before his lips are occupied again with a newfound hunger that takes them stumbling across the room. 

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**-**

_[suna]_

_atsumu if i get back and u haven’t gotten it together_

_yet i’m gonna break your kneecaps, by the way._

_[you]_

_oh believe me, we got it MORE_ _than together_

_[suna]_

_… i take it back_

**  
  
**

_[you]_

_;P_

_[you]_

_ur welcome_

**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope it was at least a little enjoyable lmao. 
> 
> all comments/kudos are very highly appreciated. i would love to hear any feedback or thoughts that you have! :)


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